


On Mutual Benefit

by TheCrazyGeek



Series: On a f*cking wing and a f*cking prayer [9]
Category: The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Femslash, Multi, Threesome - F/F/M, Wing Kink, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-15
Updated: 2014-09-15
Packaged: 2018-02-17 13:26:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2311241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCrazyGeek/pseuds/TheCrazyGeek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Winged males use sex as a dominance display, Winged females use it to build alliances. Nicola Murray already knows how the men do it from her encounters with Malcolm - now she encounters the female of the species.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The women

**Author's Note:**

> Written by the now (in)famous TTOI fic team of The-Crazy-Geek and TheMasterPlanner over on Tumblr :) This chapter is a thinly-disgused excuse to write femslash.

***

Sam Cassidy had made the odd decision to invite Nicola Murray over one morning for “tea and biscuits,” an oddly formal invitation which arrived on Nicola’s phone one afternoon. The address was Malcolm’s house, with assurances that the great man himself would not be in all day as he and Jamie had some _"Treasury heads tae go shit on from a great fucking height."_  She’d never had the occasion to talk much with the quiet brunette who handled Malcolm’s affairs.  
  


It intrigued her enough to accept. There was something going on with Sam and Malcolm, and Nicola was decidedly curious. Scraps of information from Jamie, rumours involving the continued existence of winged humans, and threats of anatomically impossible bodily harm from Malcolm didn’t even give her a starting point. Sam might be able to clear the whole thing up for Nicola, if only the questions were asked right.

That Saturday, Nicola dressed in a suitable outfit for having morning tea – silently thanking her private education for that little titbit of information – and arrived by taxi to the nondescript brick house that was Malcolm’s private lair in Hammersmith. She’d been surprised to find it without demonic faces on the door, or a moat of lava, or a line of stakes on the fence with the severed heads of press hacks impaled upon them. There wasn’t even a demon opening the door for her – just the graceful smile of Sam.  
  


A few minutes later she found herself sat on a remarkably comfortable sofa filled with pastel coloured pillows and waiting for her hostess to bring their tea. Still no sign of demons, human sacrifices, or the wailing and gnashing of teeth — in fact this place was bright, airy and immaculately clean with furnishings chosen by someone with a discerning eye for quality. No garish colour clashing, or frayed carpets, and she wondered how much of it was due to the young woman who sat down next to her on the sofa and started arranging tea cups. Sam was quite obviously relaxed and at home here.

Sam poured tea with the grace and manners of one accustomed to the upper classes and made polite small talk, for which Nicola was grateful because it gave a chance for her shoulders to stop tensing up – fearing the Prince of Darkness himself materializing behind her.  
  


Finally, after a bit of small talk, the conversation moved onto the reason she’d been invited over. “There are so few women at work I can talk to, and even less who know that Winged humans still exist,” Sam explained, “and we can’t have Jamie being plucked every week for talking to you, can we?” A sly grin crossed her face. “So, I thought that if I answered some of your questions, you wouldn’t have to ask Malcolm or Jamie, and we can cut down the number of times I have to order new suits for Malcolm.”

Nicola had to smile at that; the destruction of Malcolm’s clothes due to him totally losing his shit, usually at her, was comical from a distance. Not so much when it’s _your_ body that shredded Armani and grey feathers are landing on.

“I’m sure I can trust you to keep what I have to say in absolute confidence. We’re technically not supposed to allow you to know about us at all.”

Picking up a fresh cup of tea, Nicola leaned forward and started to question Malcolm’s PA.  
  


***

It was at least an hour and many cups of tea later and some of what she’d heard had simply boggled Nicola’s mind. The Choosing ceremonies for six-year-old girls sent her livid with rage until Sam had softly stroked her arm and said that wasn’t the norm – it was only the aristocracy who did that.  
  


Suddenly Nicola realised where Sam had got those flawless manners of hers.

“You’re nobility, aren’t you?”

Bracing herself for even more questions, Sam replied: “My full title and name is the Honourable Samantha Elizabeth Cassidy – I was once Heir to the Estate and future Head of the Cassidy Flock, until they found out I couldn’t fly.”

“My god, you’re royal?!” Nicola was shocked to the core. Royalty working as a simple personal assistant didn’t fit into her world-view at all.  
  


Sam attempted to clarify before the social affairs minister ended up fucking _curtseying_ to her. “Winged nobility, and there are some distant ties to the Windsor family – the Windsor Flock, actually – so we are, sort of, but it’s a long, long way back. Most noble families are interrelated at some point.”  
  


Curious, and perhaps missing a few cues from Sam that there were some things she really didn’t want to discuss, Nicola leaned forward. “So how does a woman with your background end up being shackled to Malcolm Tucker, the working-class violent bastard?”

Sam let a flare of anger into her eyes before hauling it back – _remember your breeding,_ she could hear her Grandmother say. _Thanks a million, Jamie, for getting her curious and also thank you Malcolm, for shagging her in the first place!_

She took a deep cleansing breath and smiled at Nicola. “I’m not _shackled_. I am of course free to go anywhere and with anyone I choose – I’d lose the family status if I did, but the option is there. I just don’t want to go. Malcolm impressed my family, which is damn hard to do for a noble, let alone a commoner, and he’s been nothing but kind to me since.” She giggled slightly and held Nicola’s eyes before adding: “And we both know how damn good he is between the sheets, right?”

It felt weird, Nicola realised, sitting here talking perfectly amicably to a woman who was essentially Malcolm’s wife about how he sleeps with both of them, and nobody has an issue with it. _Not just them_ , she remembered, _he likely sleeps with Jamie too, and god knew how many others! Did Malcolm literally shag his way to the top?_  
  


“So you know – ”

“ – about everyone else he’s had sex with? Of course, and before you ask, no, there’s no jealousy. He’s always had a reason and he’s always damn careful, it’s not like he goes out looking for prostitutes or anything.”

Nicola didn’t know what to say to that, so Sam took pity on her and clasped her hand in hers. “The Winged are different to you wingless humans. We use sex as a bonding ritual between allies, as a dominance display between someone of a higher status and a lower one, as well as the usual reproduction stuff.”

Sam’s hand was warm and Nicola didn’t want her to let go. She needed that physical anchor against the tides of new and strange information battering at her. “Does this apply to the women as well? It would be bloody unfair if it was just the men.”  
  


_She really is a handsome woman,_ Sam thought, _and misguided but kind with it. Okay, she pisses Malcolm off something chronic but I’ve got nothing against her_. The minister was a kind woman at heart — which was how she ended up butting heads with Malcolm who believed _kind_ had no place in politics — and had a maternal aura that Sam just wanted to envelop herself in, like a warm, soft blanket. She _wanted_ Nicola. Not like she wanted Malcolm — this wasn’t about reproduction or assuaging her Heat — but as something warm and caring, a meeting of two fertile women seeking a quiet in the storm together.  
  


She rubbed a thumb gently just once across Nicola’s fingers and smiled when the older woman didn’t haul her hand away. “The men tend to couple with other men as dominance and status symbols,” she began to explain to the baffled Wingless minister. “The women, however, are different. Most, if not all, female to female encounters are to do with forming alliances and strengthening ties. Unlike the men, we keep it as equals.”  
  


Nicola swallowed hard against a sudden dryness in her throat. “Have, have you…?”

“Done it myself? Of course, although growing up not truly Winged meant it was more rare than most.” Sam still didn’t let go of Nicola’s hand and the warmth was steadily growing between their fingers. “I’m of the same species as Malcolm and Jamie and the rest, so I have more or less the same morals and instincts. And needs.”  
  


Silence. Nicola couldn’t quite form the words for what she was thinking right now, aside from _Malcolm’s PA is fucking flirting with me!_ Did all Winged have sex drives like rabbits on Viagra?  
  


And this was Sam Cassidy, for fucks sake, the quiet ever-present helpful hands behind Malcolm who organised everything with hardly a word. Ollie Reeder had once voiced a crude comment in front of Nicola about what he’d do to Malcolm’s PA if he ever got her alone, and had actually bloody wet himself when a Scottish voice from behind him had drawled: “Is that so?” Luckily for him, it hadn’t come from Malcolm himself, but his pet attack dog, Jamie MacDonald.

Malcolm probably would have killed him. A vision of Malcolm out hunting and then ripping apart Ollie with those talon-like fingers flickered across her mind, and she huffed a small laugh.  
  


“Sam, do all Winged flirt outrageously or is that just a Malcolm trait?”  
  


Sam declined to answer but shifted closer to Nicola on the sofa, their hands still linked. Nicola’s gaze dropped to look at their hands resting on her thigh, her heart hammering. _Oh god she wants me, she wants me. She invited me here for this –_  
  


A finger touched her chin and lifted her head up to face her companion. “Nicola.”

Those soft brown eyes were looking, questioning, offering something warm and unhurried, yet as untamed as Malcolm himself. From a throat gone suddenly dry, Nicola asked if this was an attempt at an alliance or revenge on Malcolm or –

Sam’s lips touched hers in a brief soft kiss. “No. This is because I want you, and I want you to feel good. I can do that, if you want?”

Nicola did wonder, briefly, if this was just another Winged sex drive encounter like Malcolm’s, but Sam was not Malcolm. She was warm, and caring, and beautiful and —  
  


Without any further thought or worry, Nicola leaned across and kissed Sam back.  
  


***

They kissed on the sofa like teenagers with their first crush. Nicola had no experience at all and each movement and action was a voyage of discovery. Things she knew she liked, she tried out on Sam and her confidence grew as her partner moaned or grasped her harder. Sam was working her lips and tongue expertly against hers in motions practised but still natural. It was new, unexpected, but incredibly erotic, especially when Sam tentatively raised a hand to touch Nicola’s breasts and she didn’t stop her. The touch of another woman’s hands on her breasts handling them perfectly, with none of the mauling or pawing she’d endured from various men over the years, felt wonderful, and somehow just _right_.

Nicola discovered to her surprise that her hands were roaming over Sam as well, clutching her close and stroking her smooth back. Compared to the savage, over-the-nearest-flat-surface couplings that Malcolm seemed to specialise in, this was almost gentle. Warm. Comforting. Sam’s mouth lowered to kiss along the swell of Nicola’s breasts and a wave of peaceful warmth flowed through her as the younger woman pressed kisses of adoration over her body.  
  


Time passed, although neither could have told how long, and the proceedings were escalating, heating up. Sam had her hand up inside Nicola’s bra and Nicola had actually undone Sam’s and was stroking her hand back and forth over Sam’s soft breasts; all the while the two of them kissing like lovers just reunited. Sam finally broke the silence and stroked Nicola’s hand as she asked her if she’d like to come upstairs to the bedroom, as she really would like to make love to her right now — if that was all right?

Nicola didn’t even stop to ponder it. Comforted, warm, relaxed yet exceptionally turned on, she followed Sam upstairs to the largest bed she’d ever seen in her life.  
  


***

Sam had carefully and silently helped Nicola off with her clothes, dropping feather-soft kisses on her shoulders and stroking her flanks to soothe her when Nicola had a sudden wave of fearful realization: this was _Malcolm’s_ bed she was being carefully undressed on. Being taken on rooftops, desks, and office floors by the Director of Communications was one thing, but this was where he slept. Briefly, she wondered if he ever called it his “nest.”  
  


Sam took her mind off such thoughts, petting and stroking Nicola with warmth and care and enveloping her in her arms at every given opportunity. Not even in the start of her marriage to James had she been touched with such _worshipful_ hands. She felt a wave of something, gratitude perhaps, toward the younger woman currently slipping Nicola’s bra off and cupping her bare breasts as they swung free.  
  


The room smelt of warm, molten honey and something else — something that was both relaxing and painfully arousing — coming off from Sam in waves. Nicola wanted to wrap herself in it, roll around naked on the bed with it, drape it over her naked skin and rub against Sam’s naked flesh until they were both breathing hard and unable to stop themselves from indulging in every single wanton pleasure she’d ever thought of —

— Sam had finished removing all of Nicola’s clothes and turned sideways, asking Nicola to help her remove her own bra, her eyes sparkling with promise. In a daze, eager to clasp Sam’s ample breasts against her own, she saw something quite unusual on Sam’s spine while undoing the clasp on her bra. “What are those?” Nicola asked, looking at a series of markings on Sam’s smooth shoulders. They looked like cross-hatching, or scars done by a surgeon with an interest in tattooing, and were a beautiful soft tawny brown against Sam’s pale skin.

“They’re called wing markers,” Sam replied. “On normal Winged, those match the colours of their wings when extended. Malcolm’s are light grey, if you ever get the chance to look.”  
  


Nicola traced over the slightly raised lines with her fingers. But for these, Sam actually didn’t look all that different from an ordinary woman. “Barn owls have feathers like this.”  
  


“And that’s the colour my wings would be. If I had the fucking gene to extend them.”  
  


It was pretty obvious this subject wasn’t something Sam wanted to discuss.

A few minutes later they were both naked and wrapped around each other, trading light kisses and Nicola had a sudden and distressing thought. “What is Malcolm going to say when he finds out – ”

“ – that I’ve had you in our bed?” A hand started to slide up the inside of Nicola’s left thigh. “That I had you writhing and coming under me?” The hand reached her hot core and fluttered there like hummingbird wings. “That I wanted this, loved every second of it and hoped this wouldn’t be a one off?”

“Ye, yes…”

Sam slid a finger inside her and licked a nipple simultaneously. “He’ll love it.” Two fingers now. “It’ll make him hard and eager to mate.” Three fingers and a bite on her breast. “He’ll probably want to see it sometime.” Four fingers now and starting to slide them in and out. “The three of us in this bed, we’ll make him watch while we stroke and touch and make each other come right in front of him, and he’ll take both of us after.” Sam crooked her fingers upward and smiled at the deep moan her partner let out and the way she clenched around Sam’s fingers at every filthy suggestion. _Bet her useless husband never does this._.. “And while he’s taking you, I’ll be up here with my mouth all over your gorgeous breasts and we’d make you come harder than you ever have before…”

Nicola captured her mouth in a very deep and enthusiastic kiss and all talking stopped. Sam’s hands were skilled and precise, touching Nicola’s body all over in just the right spots at the right times. Nicola’s touch was inexperienced, but no less effective for being unpredictable. She began by following what Sam was doing to her and felt a tremor of triumph when she had several fingers inside the younger woman and moved them just so, and Sam moaned, long and loud, and pulled her closer, encouraging her to continue. Caresses Nicola had previously only done to herself in the privacy of a darkened room were applied to Sam and her reaction was ecstatic: her hips lifting up from the bed and her breathing accelerating.

Sam’s brown eyes fixed onto hers. She was panting for breath, the scent of her arousal swirling between them. “Nicola.”

“Yes?” She carried on sliding her fingers in and out of the aroused woman beneath her and kissing her neck. _God, this is amazing, I can’t believe I’m doing this but it feels so good and –_

“You’re going to make me come.” Sam ground herself against Nicola’s hand and made bird-like keening noises in her throat. “Please, I need to.”

Nicola didn’t even think before she slid down the bed and fastened her lips around one of Sam’s nipples and started to suck on it, setting up a rhythm matching her fingers sliding in and out of her. Musk, honey-scented and strong, filled her nostrils and she sped up, circling her thumb over her clit. Accounts of the winged humans had described the scent they gave off as ambrosial, irresistible, and Nicola agreed. She’d never be able to go near that musky, sweet scent again without thinking of either Malcolm — hard, powerful, dominant, and sliding into her, or Sam — caring, warm, and giving her phenomenally erotic caresses.

Sam whimpered when Nicola teased her with her tongue, her arousal building past painful levels and into agonising. “Oh god that’s it!” she moaned, arching her back, “like that!” Her fingers clawed into the bedsheets as Nicola took her harder and faster until –

“God, you’re so good!” Sam cried and lifted her hips clean off the bed, body tensing against the sensations building inside her. “Don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop—”

With a cry like that of a hunting falcon, she came, thrashing and gasping and pulsating against Nicola’s fingers, soaking the bed with her arousal and clutching the other woman tightly with desperate hands. When it was all over, Sam fell back, panting and sated, and Nicola slid her fingers out, using a corner of the rumpled sheets to wipe them dry before laying her head on Sam’s heaving chest and wrapping her arms around the sweat-soaked woman she’d just had sex with. _I’ve just had sex with another woman,_ she realized. This fact took some time to process. _God, is this what having wings means? Bonking everything that moves?_ Nicola’s mind spun, trying to find a balance between the world she came from, the one where she lived with her ordinary husband and three ordinary children, and this new, strange one full of beautiful winged humans with sexual morals that were…bohemian, to say the least. Bohemian and addictive.

Barely a couple of minutes later, blatantly showing off a stamina equal to Malcolm’s, Sam had rolled Nicola onto her back and was lying on top of her. “That was amazing, no word of a lie. I can see why Malcolm enjoys mating with you so much.” She moved in for a kiss, and was stopped by Nicola’s gentle hand on her lips.  
  


“Sam, I know it’s all normal to you,” Nicola said, “but it’s still weird as hell for you to say that to me. Malcolm’s yours, and humans normally get at least a little jealous when their partner sleeps around.”

“Let’s not mention him, then.” Sam smiled and kissed Nicola. _It’s not even been four months since she found out about us,_ Sam thought. _Welcome to the world of the Winged, as done by Malcolm Tucker._ She wished she’d been the one to introduce Nicola to this strange world that ran alongside her own. Her Mate was brilliant, but he still had his blind spots, and he’d thrust Nicola into their world without even the slightest cushioning.

Mentally giving herself a shake, she turned her full attentions back to the naked, gorgeously curvy woman under her. Moralistic worries could wait until later, this was more important. She’d made the decision to try and form an alliance with Nicola months ago — shortly after that time Malcolm had taken the Minister up to a London hotel rooftop and introduced her to Winged sexuality. She was sure Nicola would rise much higher than her current position — Malcolm had told her over dinner one night that she would be Party leader soon —  and she was, after all, quite beautiful. It had been such a long time since Sam had felt the touch of another woman.

Sam moved Nicola gently onto her back and kissed her slowly, seductively, her superior sense of smell revelling in the scent of Nicola’s arousal, her sweat, her fertility, and making Sam shiver at how bloody _erotic_ that all was. It wasn’t just Winged men who got turned on by a woman in the fertile days of her cycle.  
  


Nicola was so wonderfully pliant and trusting, if a little unsure. Sam went slowly, carefully and stopped a few times to ask if this touch or that was okay, not wanting to force her bed partner into anything that would make her uncomfortable, and Nicola would nod, or moan and pull her tighter.  
  


When Sam kissed down to Nicola’s abdomen, the older woman stiffened up and crossed her hands over her body. “I don’t think you need to see the horrors of my stretch mark collection.” James had told her so many times that she should have taken better care of her skin during her pregnancies. The marks were a vivid scarlet against her English-rose complexion, criss-crossing around her lower body like a map of the motorway system.  
  


Sam, however, didn’t move away or show any disgust like Nicola’s husband. In fact, the younger woman just laughed.  
  


“Don’t be daft,” Sam said, and licked a wide stripe across one of the more prominent marks. “They’re indicators of your fertility, remember? Which, by the way, can turn Winged females on just as fast as the men…”  
  


Nicola tried to remain still as Sam’s tongue ran over every little mark and scar on her body, but it was difficult, and when Sam carried on stroking Nicola’s abdomen and kissed her neck at the same time, downright impossible. Malcolm could make her feel sexy when he swept his cold grey eyes over her and suggested a place to have a shag, but Sam made her feel like a goddess, a pampered, worshipped, desired goddess of femininity and fertility.

“God,” she moaned, and stroked Sam’s hair. “Please, please don’t stop.”  
  


Sam didn’t. Her tongue had traced every inch of Nicola’s body, licking slowly, tenderly and thoroughly, and with every touch Nicola’s confidence increased. To Winged people, she was desirable, sexy, her stretch marks and loose skin not an unpleasant reminder that she was “used goods,” but badges of honour, proof of her ability to successfully carry and give birth to healthy children. With some sadness, she realized that fertility was so valued to the Winged because there were so few of them. They were, after all, officially extinct.  
  


“I want you,” Sam murmured, interrupting Nicola’s thoughts. Her head rested upon Nicola’s shoulder as she licked and sucked on an erect nipple, the breast cupped in one delicate but strong hand. “I want to make love to you. Is that alright?”

Nicola didn’t even need to think about it. “Please do, this feels so good and _oh_!” Her speech was cut short when Sam bit firmly on her shoulder and simultaneously slid two fingers down, either side of Nicola’s clit, before starting to rub back and forth in a smooth motion.

Nicola was floating on a sea of sensation. Her lover, skilled and attentive to her needs, didn’t even need to be told what to do. All Nicola had to do was enjoy it, in fact Sam _insisted_ that she just let herself go — murmuring compliments all the while as to how gorgeous Nicola was, how graceful her limbs were — and just revel in the sensations caused by Sam’s expert touch.

Sam wasn’t Malcolm; she wasn’t interested in torturing Nicola by holding her on the edge, or taking her so roughly her skin was covered in welts and bruises; she preferred gentle and more leisurely bedroom antics. Nicola was hot and panting in her arousal, but there were no desperate screams or the sound of abused bedsprings here. Sam was gently but firmly working her body up to the peak of pleasure, like drifting in a pool of hot water that gradually got warmer and warmer —  
  


— Nicola didn’t scream at the low strong orgasm that rippled through her, she didn’t have the breath to do it. It came across her like a rolling heavy weight and spread to every part of her body, the building pressure coaxed on by Sam’s fingers and tongue until it broke, and she uttered a soft cry as her entire body pulsed in incredible pleasure.

An immense lassitude settled over her and she held the younger woman tight against her tired body. At peace, sated and absolutely exhausted, the two women curled up together and drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms.

***


	2. Malcolm returns home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In terms of timeline, this bext bit happens right after Malcolm gets back from his little jaunt into Vampire!Malcolm’s world - which is a total crackfic so don't worry about continuity *too* much :)

***

A slow clapping noise from the doorway roused both of them from their exhausted snooze. “Now, love, that was one hell of a show,” someone drawled. That voice could only be Malcolm’s, and they both sat up fast.

He was standing in the doorway, dove grey wings spread out to their full span behind him, expression as unreadable as ever. Well, unreadable by Nicola anyway. Sam apparently had no problem.

Out of his suit, with his great silvery wings spread, he looked different from the communications director she knew and loathed, less like a man and more like what he was — something else, a predator quick and agile, fast as a falcon, far more bird than man. His hands were large, elegant, and freakishly strong, the cruel talons of a bird of prey. Every inch of him was beautiful, perfect and adapted to flight.

She idly wondered if his bones were hollow, like a bird’s.

 

“She’s very good, Malcolm. Very, very good,” Sam purred, and grabbed Nicola for a sudden deep kiss which she didn’t fight against. Malcolm stepped into the room and walked to the foot of the bed, looking down at both women with half-lidded eyes: naked, sweaty and glowing from pleasure given and shared. His wings raised higher in dominance display.

_These are_ my _women_ , his instincts told him. _These are_ mine _to mate with_.

And god did he ever want to do that right now. The scent in this room was intoxicating – two fertile aroused women filling the air with their scent – and he was finding it increasingly hard to not strip the rest of his clothes off and just pounce on them both. When he’d found the bedroom door shut, he’d heard and seen their coupling from a crack in the door frame and, for the first time in nearly thirty years, come hard in his trousers without even touching himself _at all_.

Now his body was ready again. His erection was growing steadily larger the longer he stayed in this room and when Sam kissed Nicola again –

Malcolm’s eyes were dark and glassy, his hand rubbing against his trousers. “Fuck. Right, I need one of ye tae be taken really fucking roughly right about now, because else I’m going tae fucking spunk in my boxers again…”

Sam smiled and whispered something in Nicola’s ear that made the older woman gasp in surprise — and then nod slowly when Sam assured her it will be fine.

Malcolm was surprised when Nicola, eager and still naked, crawled across the bed covers and started undoing the fly on his trousers, her eyes wide and fixed on his wings.

“…Nic’la?”

“We’ll both make you lose your mind, not that you are far off that anyway.” Malcolm just snorted at Nicola’s small attempt at humour and simply allowed her to undress him. When his erection was freed from his clothing, he sighed in relief, fucking Christ, it was fucking hard and huge and glistening from his earlier orgasm.

He spread his wings and practically pounced. Sam gasped as he pinned her to the bed, her legs locking around his thin waist to leave her intimately exposed, allowing the great falcon of Westminster to claim his Mate.

Nicola was at a loss for what she should do, never having been in this sort of situation before. Was she supposed to do something to Malcolm or to Sam while the two of them vigorously coupled on the bed right next to her? Or should she sit there and wait for instructions? Or just get dressed and leave?

Sam would have rolled her eyes at the prudishness of baseline humans if she hadn’t been currently pummelled into the mattress; as it was, she merely extended a graceful hand to Nicola and pulled the older woman toward her.

"What do you want me to do?" Nicola curled her naked limbs as close as she could to the pair of them.

"Oh darling." A decisive Sam turned to face her female partner. "When we’re about to come, I want you to bite me, hard. Even draw blood, if you are that way inclined."

Her first thought was to say: “No, no, I am not at all so inclined!”

But how would she know? She had suddenly been thrust into a very strange and sensual world full of beautiful fierce creatures that by all accounts no longer existed at all, and realized she was utterly lost, with no map or star to guide the way.

Nevertheless, Nicola leaned over and started gently biting on Sam’s neck while caressing and stroking her breasts and nipples, in imitation of what Sam had done with her before. Sam moaned, throwing her head back, allowing Nicola to scrape her teeth along her collarbone.

Nicola suddenly gasped as Malcolm  thrust his long fingers into her, rubbing his thumb over her clit while still driving into Sam.

"Oh god!" Nicola moaned, relaxing her muscles against Malcolm’s abrupt intrusion. "How do you do that, Malcolm?" She wasn’t really expecting an answer; this was more a statement of disbelief at how a fifty-year, or thereabouts, old man could pleasure two women simultaneously and not lose his balance in the process.

Taking a quick look up and away from Sam’s flushed skin, she saw how he was doing it. The beautiful  silver wings were raised high, bracing Malcolm against the walls and stopping him from falling forwards.

Those great powerful, deadly and _magnificent_ wings—

"Do ye mind takin’ care of wee Sam instead of eyeing’ me up like a rare steak?" Malcolm said, scissoring his fingers inside Nicola to ensure she broke out of whatever wing-induced trance she was in. "I think she fucking loves having your tongue runnin’ across those fucking amazin’ tits of hers, that right love?" Now it was Sam who was moaning affirmations and keening for the return of her female lover’s touch. Cupping one of Sam’s ample breasts, Nicola squeezed it gently and flicked her tongue back and forth on the nipple.

She didn’t know if it was because of Sam’s presence, but Malcolm was being almost gentle with her — this was nothing like the primal, violent, almost brutal roughness he’d taken her with during their previous encounters. He traced the large welts he’d left on her back last week with his long fingers.  

Malcolm F Tucker had marked her, with both tooth and claw.

"Bite me, please," Sam pleaded as Malcolm started thrusting even faster both into her and into Nicola. "Fucking remember tae do that," Malcolm growled, "someone’s got tae bite her an’ I’m fucking busy right now."

Nicola was just about to ask what the hell was all the biting for, but at that moment Sam’s moaning grew ever louder, and it was clear she wasn’t going to be able to hold out much longer. Making a mental note to ask Sam later, Nicola leaned down and gently bit the younger woman’s neck.

"For fucks sake, Nic’la, what are you, a fucking fish nibbling at a worm? Bite her properly!"

She bit harder, where Sam’s neck met her shoulder. Nicola Murray was always eager to please.

It felt very strange to be biting hard enough to scar on a woman’s neck, but judging by Sam’s reaction to Nicola’s teeth in her skin, the young woman didn’t mind at all. Quite the opposite.

"That’s it, fucking good, now don’t let go." Moaning himself, Malcolm started thrusting even faster, harder, his hips rocketing back and forth, until Sam pierced the air with a screech like a barn owl and shook against Nicola’s body as she came under the touch of her two lovers. Malcolm followed soon after, screeching as he spent himself inside his Mate.

A minute had barely passed and Malcolm was already hard and willing to go again — which left Nicola wondering if the man had actually found the fountain of youth, or if the the Dark Lord of Westminster really did feed off the fear and misery of incompetent MPs.

Sam seemed just as eager to keep going, which all made Nicola start to feel a bit of a third wheel here, an afterthought. She had no idea if Winged were telepathic, but Sam seemed to sense her uncertainty and stopped Malcolm in his tracks.

"What?" he snarled, angry at being halted from his single-minded pursuit of mating.

"You could give Nicola some attention, or let me do it. She’s very good and all you’ve done is snarl at her."

His predator’s gaze swung around to Nicola lying naked on the bed next to Sam. She was attractive really, more slender than Sam, but her body was streaked with the tell-tale signs of previous pregnancies. Fertile, and proof of it visible on her skin; if Malcolm hadn’t been hard again already, he sure as fuck would have been after seeing that.

“Ah fuck, I hate when you’re right.” He quirked an eyebrow and sat back on his heels for a moment, considering his next actions.

Oh yes, he wanted to fuck her. That dappy minister for the Department of Sod-All was a pain in the fucking feathers at work, but here, naked, fertile — and fucking turned on if his nose wasn’t deceiving him — he just wanted to be buried balls-deep in her and fill her full of his seed and —

Malcolm knew there were no condoms in the drawer, and there was one thing that not even Malcolm Tucker’s most hated enemies could call him, and that was stupid. Getting the Minister knocked up would be fifty minutes of fucking amazin’ sex, followed by years of fucking shite, and Malcolm just wasn’t going to risk it. They’d been fucking lucky that last time. Stupid woman was addicted tae his wings anyway, she’d be happy so long as he had those out…

***

He’d apparently made a decision, and leaned forward to run his hands over her body, sweeping down low and between her legs. Nicola was almost painfully aroused, addicted to the sensation that it seemed only the Director of Communications could give her. Such power in those hands, such speed. More, she needed more. She tried to grind against him, but Malcolm merely pushed her back against the pillows. Nicola idly noticed that they’d been stuffed with jet-black feathers and made a mental note to ask where they’d come from and how they’d ended up in Malcolm’s pillows.

"Not getting my cock today, Nic’la," he said, that familiar feral smile on his face. "So do ye want my fucking fingers inside you, make you come quick and fast and hard? Or Sam’s tongue, sliding over and in you, warm and wet?"

Nicola could only gasp. She looked into that lean, sharp-featured face, into those intense grey eyes, and saw nothing gentle or civilized in them.

His face was that of a hawk just as it spies a mouse. He pulled her close and kissed her hungrily, devouring her as if he were starving — and she was a freshly caught pigeon.

"Come on, love, haven’t got all fucking day."

"Want you," she managed in a hoarse whisper, and Malcolm snorted with amusement.

"Poor wee Sam, after all that effort—" His voice was amused and he kissed down her neck. However, Nicola hadn’t finished speaking.

"—And her. I want both."

"Greedy, aren’t ye?" Malcolm growled into her ear, slowly pushing a finger back inside her.

"Greedy—" A second finger.

"Insatiable—" Then a third.

"Demanding—" He added a fourth, and started thrusting, hard, and Nicola trembled, clenching herself around his hand.

"And fucking _obsessed_ with my wings—” It was Malcolm’s turn to gasp; Nicola had reached up to stroke those majestic wings, along their sensitive upper curves.

He held her on the edge in a stunning display of skill, never quite letting her come but delving and rolling his fingers inside her to keep her aroused and begging. Sam had linked her legs back around Malcolm’s waist at some point during all that — Malcolm neither knew nor cared when — and pulled him back into her. She laid back on the bed, clenching around his cock and making soft whimpers as he leaned forward to thrust into her, his fingers still inside Nicola’s slick insides.

His wings were too much of a temptation for Nicola to just lie back and enjoy his touch, like she did with Sam earlier. Losing contact with him only for a second, she sat up and reached over to stroke the decadently soft downy feathers where his wings met his back. Malcolm’s whole body jerked in response, his wings rustling, and he responded with a litany of myriad Scottish profanities in between increasingly loud moans. She ran her fingers across the hard, smooth plane of his back, feeling the silk of his pale skin and the fluffy down feathers covering the powerful flight muscles like a warm, soft whisper.

Far from being jealous, Sam actually enjoyed seeing Nicola affecting Malcolm like this. Her rapt expression as her fingers glided over smooth, long pinion feathers was obviously something Malcolm loved, even if he vocally protested about it at times. The woman was almost hypnotised, a mouse caught in the gaze of an eagle, and probably would be quite happy just feeling up Malcolm’s wings instead of having sex.

That, however, was a boring idea to Sam, especially after the bedroom gymnastics she’d experienced with the Minister earlier. Twisting her upper body around, she turned to face Nicola and hauled her onto her back before giving her a soul-searing kiss and telling her that she’d come a lot harder if those were Sam’s fingers in there rather than her Mate’s. Malcolm’s wings fluttered briefly, a sign that he liked that idea, but then he thought better.

"Nic’la. On ye knees, over Sam’s head an’ facing me. I’m going tae have my tongue so far down your fucking throat you’ll be coughing me up fer weeks. I’ll get tae see my mate licking another woman out which will make me come like a fucking freight train with a jet engine up its arse."

Before Nicola could say another word, Malcolm enveloped her with dove grey wings and crushed her lips against his, acting like the fucking cure for cancer was behind her tonsils and he had to reach it with his tongue.

He was practically feral, all the earlier gentleness forgotten as he pulled her naked body to where he wanted her and ravished her lips. Cocooned within the circle of his wings was Nicola, right on the verge as Malcolm’s nails dug into her back while Sam teased at her passion-swollen flesh with her tongue. All three of them were panting and had a fine film of sweat glistening their naked bodies. The sheets had been rucked up and thrown off the bed ages ago, leaving behind a mattress getting steadily soaked with sweat and arousal and peppered with loose downy grey feathers.

Malcolm’s mouth was fastened onto Nicola’s neck when she took a quick look at the bed and remarked that it looked like he was making a nest. No sooner than the words were out of her mouth than Malcolm bit even fucking harder.

"Ye got any rubber johnnies on ye, I don’t suppose?" he muttered against her skin, and she shook her head. She hadn’t seen the need for them since James didn’t go near her any more and she hadn’t been aware that Malcolm would want her more than once. "Fucking shame that," he muttered, his teeth scraping down to her collarbones, "I could really do with bein’ balls deep in ye right now."

Nicola shivered as Malcolm’s nails raked across her back, drawing thin streams of blood. He was a force of nature, savage and wild, and his wings were beating hard enough to raise gusts of wind, goosebumps on Nicola’s skin.

Never before had she associated the colour grey with passion. With power. With pleasure.

_With pain…_

***

God he felt great, marking Nicola and making her beg while feeling Sam’s muscles flutter inside her whenever she had another orgasm, muscles vibrating against Malcolm’s cock and pushing him to the edge as well.

They couldn’t last forever at this. The moans and heaving chests coming from all three were beginning to have a strained note. Malcolm just prayed to his childhood god that his body wouldn’t try to make this into an all-night session.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Nicola had to be wondering how her silver-winged lover could display more strength and stamina than a man half his age — and still be holding back for her. Dear god, were all Winged capable of this?

And Sam, wingless and yet Winged, who despite having already had a number of intense orgasms this evening was still as eager to give and receive pleasure as she was hours ago.

Two intensely sexual beings determined to pleasure Nicola in ways she’d only thought of in dreams. Unsure any longer if this was real, and not caring either way, she gave herself over completely to their ministrations.

***

“Stop, God. I can’t, no more,” Nicola begged, gasping and moaning after the fourth or fifth orgasm of the evening. She felt too small for her body now, sore and wet and gloriously satisfied, her legs like so much jelly, covered in bites, bruises, welts and scratches and looking like she’d been attacked by a wild beast—which actually wasn’t all that fucking far from the truth.

Malcolm muttered something about how fucking weak and fragile Wingless were, but he and Sam were breathing just as hard as she was.

"Up fer one more love?" he asked Sam. "Although I’m likely to just come fucking puffs of air after this." Sam nodded eagerly, despite her own flesh being as red and lushly swollen as Nicola’s. One more, and then they could sleep in an exhausted pile.

"Atta girl. Let’s see if we can’t get a wee baby started eh?"

Despite the slew of questions that Malcolm’s last comment had raised in her head, Nicola was just too tired to ask. Malcolm and Sam came one last time, sweating, chests heaving but flushed with the satisfaction of a truly glorious evening.

Without words they arranged themselves on the bed, Malcolm retracting his wings and curling up next to Sam, Nicola on the other side with her head resting on Sam’s ample chest. Sleep took them all in a matter of minutes.

***

Nicola had one request before she had to leave: she wanted to see Malcolm hunt.

He’d mocked her again for being a fucking wing-besotted fruitcake, but he’d told her to get to the rooftop. Besides, he was fucking famished anyway.

Nicola didn’t regret asking.

Whenever the Director of Communications had to run, he was famously ungainly — a quirk that no one in Whitehall dared mock, whether to his face or not — but she supposed that an eagle would look funny running on the ground, too.

But when he spread those immense grey wings and leapt, soaring into the vault of the London sky, his predatory grace and grandeur were unmatched.

Malcolm’s movements in the air were powerful, precise, making the act of flying appear effortless. He somersaulted through the air, showing off his speed and agility for a suitably im-fucking-pressed Nicola, his powerful wings gleaming silver in the light as they carried him swiftly upon the air currents in feats of aerial acrobatics and athleticism.

To Nicola, it was utterly fascinating.

He’d spotted something that Nicola couldn’t see from this distance, and dove into a sharp turn, banking into the wind. Whatever it was, pigeon or partridge or quail, it didn’t stand a snowflake’s chance in a bonfire against the great grey falcon of Westminster. Swooping down and gliding so close to Nicola that his outermost primaries almost brushed her hair, Malcolm snatched it from midair with a deft hand, breaking its neck before landing upon the roof.

Nicola had one more request: that he at least not eat the thing in front of her. Circle of life or not, there were some things she just couldn’t stomach.

She judged it time to leave Malcolm’s house once he ripped his prey in half and offered it to Sam. Nicola wanted to remember last night, the best sex she’d ever had, and not two grown adults cheerfully wolfing down a raw pigeon for breakfast.

Malcolm rolled his eyes. The woman may soak her knickers at the sight of his wings — fuck, she just about came whenever he touched her with them — but he could take everything she knew about the Winged, roll it up into a little fucking ball, shove it up a sparrow’s arse, and hear it fucking rattle about like a fucking bullet in a boxcar.

***

"Jamie, can I ask you something?"

"Is this going tae be about Sam again, because I am not getting myself fucking plucked twice in one year for one of your stupid cunting questions, ye frizzy haired fuckwit."

"Are all you Winged completely obsessed with sex?" she whispered.

Jamie just laughed at Nicola, flipped two fingers at her and strode off to look for more fun targets. He’d never understand what his boss saw in that woman.

Remembering something she’d seen, Nicola reminded herself that she ought to ask Jamie sometime if his feathers were black. If she ever had a death wish, that is.

***

Later that week, Nicola received a packet in the internal mail from Sam. Inside were two silver earrings, with a silken dove-grey feather attached on a drop chain to each.

The note inside said:

“ _He won’t notice a few missing, but I thought you’d like this reminder of a wonderful evening._  
  


_Sam_

_p.s. Hope I’ll see you again, very soon._

_p.p.s. Don’t wear these at work, he’s only got one spare suit left.”_

 


End file.
